


SILVER_BULLET.mp3

by chashmish



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Nero gets grounded, Nero has a SoundCloud, Parent Vergil (Devil May Cry), Uncle-Nephew Relationship, background Nero/Kyrie but not the focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chashmish/pseuds/chashmish
Summary: Nero just wants to write a song for Kyrie. But before he can, he'll have to take some advice from his uncle– and get a little closer to understanding his dad.
Relationships: Dante & Nero (Devil May Cry), Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	SILVER_BULLET.mp3

Three minutes past curfew. That wasn’t even bad! No way Vergil could get mad at him for being a little late. 

It wasn’t as if he was out doing anything that would piss his dad off, Nero reasoned as he inserted his key into the lock. He had dinner at Kyrie and Credo’s and stuck around until Credo started hitting him with those pointed glances that let him know it was time to leave. After that he’d said goodbye and went around driving for a while, listening to music. Then he’d parked at the overlook to write down a few ideas for lyrics… 

Well, he was trying to write, but he'd gotten frustrated, and the time had gotten away from him, and now it was three minutes past curfew. 

It was probably fine, though. Nero opened the door and stepped inside. 

“It’s 11:03,” Vergil said.

“Aah!” Nero yelped. “You scared the shit out of me.”

His father was sitting on the recliner in the living room, a book open on his lap. It was dark inside the house. The only light was coming from the lamp on the table next to him. “Language,” he said. “Nero, you’re home late.” 

“Yeah, I know, sorry, but–”

Vergil cut him off. “We had a talk about this just last week.”

“Dad, come on– it’s just a few minutes!”

Vergil’s frown only deepened. He closed the book on his lap and set it aside. “Where were you?”

“I was just at Kyrie and Credo’s place…”

This didn't placate Vergil. “Don’t you have any other friends? You spend far too much time at that house.” 

“What? Why are you always so weird about them?”

Vergil frowned, and Nero realized he'd raised his voice. “It's late. Don’t start an argument.”

“I’m not starting an argument," Nero retorted. "I’m asking you a question.” 

“That’s enough.” Vergil rose, setting his book aside. “Go to bed. You have school in the morning.” 

“Yeah. Whatever.” Nero stalked over to the stairs, but then he turned around. "You know, maybe I'd be less _argumentative_ if you actually told me anything… about _anything_."

"Nero," his dad said, a warning note in his voice. 

But Nero was too irritated to stop just then. "You're always demanding things and ordering me around and then not even answering when I ask what any of it means! Why the hell should I listen to anything you say?"

“Nero!” Vergil snapped. “That is enough. Since you insist on disrespecting me, and you aren’t responsible enough with your privileges, then you leave me with no choice but to take them away. You’re grounded.” 

"Screw that."

"Watch your mouth!"

"Whatever!" Nero turned around and stalked upstairs to his room, slamming the door with a loud _thud_ when he got there.

He threw himself on his bed and glowered up at the ceiling. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for a while– he was filled with too much pulsing energy.

Because he was pissed off. And there was something Nero always did when he was pissed off. 

Making sure his phone was connected to his speaker, he chose a song from his library and hit play. Abrasive electronic music started to blare. Vindictively, he turned up the volume.

It was only a few seconds before he heard his dad yelling from downstairs. “Nero!”

“WHAT?”

“Turn down the music!”

“NO!” 

He waited for the angry response, but none came. Triumphant, he grinned to himself and let the song play on. He was already starting to feel better. 

* * *

The first thing most people noticed when they entered their house was the katana held in place in a frame above the fireplace. For some reason, on this particular morning, Nero noticed it, too. 

He'd put his headphones on before going downstairs, and an acoustic rock song was playing as he gazed at the blade. This was Kyrie’s kind of music– the songs she liked to hear when she wasn’t listening to church hymns or rehearsing for choir. Stuff with soft vocals and meaningful lyrics. Nero always acted like he hated it, but… Kyrie always listened to the EDM tracks he uploaded online– even said nice things about them– so he’d started making an effort to listen to the stuff she liked. 

It was kind of growing on him. He would never admit it, but once he had teared up when “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None The Richer had played on the radio in Nico's car. In a startling display of grace he would probably never again see from her, she had pretended not to notice. 

The music played on as he kept staring at the katana he’d seen a million times before. But how long had it been since he’d really stopped to look at it? All his dad had ever told him about it was its name– Yamato– and that it was an antique that he should never try to mess around with. 

"Nero.”

Nero turned around. Vergil was standing in front of him, dressed in his work clothes. “Come eat breakfast," he said stiffly. "I made eggs.”

“Fine.” If his dad wasn't going to mention last night, Nero wasn't going to, either. Nero gave him a baleful glance as he went over to the kitchen. 

They ate opposite each other at the table in silence. When he was almost done cleaning his plate, Nero paused. "Hey, Dad."

Vergil glanced at him. "What is it?"

"What's the story behind Yamato? Why do you have something like that?"

Vergil frowned slightly and turned his attention back to his food. "That isn't your concern."

Nero felt some familiar irritation flare up. "Why not? It's a gigantic sword in the middle of our living room. Any way you spin it, it's pretty concerning."

"There are some things that you're not yet old enough to understand."

"Old enough?" Nero said incredulously. "I'm seventeen! How much older do I have to be? It really is always like this with you. You never tell me _anything._ "

Vergil sighed. "Nero, please. I don't have the energy to fight with you right now."

Nero wanted to keep arguing, but something weary he saw in Vergil's expression gave him pause. Reluctantly, he let the conversation end and finished his eggs. 

After breakfast, Vergil waited until Nero was rinsing his dishes in the sink to say, “I’m driving you to school today.”

Nero whipped around to look at him. “You kidding me?!”

“I am not. Need I remind you that you’re grounded?” 

“How the hell am I going to get home?” 

“ _Language_. You can take the bus," Vergil said calmly.

"I haven't taken the bus in a year."

"You'll survive." The look on Vergil's face let him know that there was no point in arguing. "Remember to come straight home after school."

* * *

Nero did not come straight home after school. Instead, he headed to Dante's place. 

Strategically speaking, it was the worst choice he could make. That was because Dante, despite being an asshole who deeply enjoyed irritating his brother, tended to defer to Vergil on most things that involved Nero. There was a high chance that Dante would call his dad immediately and maybe even give Nero one of his weirdly solemn one-sentence condemnations that somehow stung just as much as Vergil’s lectures. 

Nero didn’t choose Dante's apartment because it was a smart move, though. He went because he knew that it would piss Vergil off more than anything else he could do. 

No one responded to Nero's knocks when he approached the door, but when he tried to open it, he found that it was unlocked. 

"Typical," Nero said out loud as he entered. He looked around, but it really seemed like neither Dante or his roommate were home.

His uncle made his money by uploading videos of himself performing Parkour exercises online, so it was no surprise he couldn't afford to live alone. Nero wasn't really sure what his uncle's relationship with his roommate was, though. Once when he was younger he'd asked Trish if she was Dante's girlfriend, and she had burst into peals of laughter while Dante stood by in the corner looking unamused, so he'd never brought it up again. 

Nero's eyes fell on Dante's guitar case, propped up in a corner of the living room. 

He frowned. Then he shook his head, picked up a magazine that was lying on the floor, and threw himself onto the couch. After he'd been staring at glossy pages for about half an hour, he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. When he looked up, Dante was looking back at him. 

"Oh, shi– shoot," Dante said. "Hi, kid. How are you in here?"

"You can swear around me, I'm seventeen," Nero said. "Door was unlocked."

"Oh." Dante scratched his head. "Guess it was."

"You're gonna get robbed one day," Nero said pointedly.

Dante cracked a grin. "You sound like your dad."

Nero couldn't help but scowl at that. 

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Verge giving you a hard time?"

Nero glanced away. "I need a break from him. A long one."

Dante gave him a searching look. "Alright, whatever. You can stay here. But I'm calling Vergil and letting him know."

Nero knew it would happen, but he protested anyway.

"Uh-uh," Dante said firmly. "I won't let him drag you back home if you don't wanna go, but I need to let him know where you are. Okay?"

"...Yeah, whatever."

"Good kid," Dante said, and left to go make the call. 

Nero lay down on the couch, frowning up at the ceiling. Just the thought of going back home and verbally sparring with Vergil again felt tiring. Why did he have to have a huge hardass for a dad? And such a closed-off one, too?

"Yeah, Verge, you _know_ I know about his shellfish allergy," he heard his uncle say from the kitchen. "Yes, I still have his pediatrician's number on my fridge."

Nero groaned and rolled over until he was facedown on the sofa. 

He stayed like that for a while until he heard Dante's footsteps and his nearby voice ask, "Hungry, kid?"

Nero slowly lifted his head. "Let me guess, pizza?"

"Ding ding ding! Correct." Dante grinned. "Give the delivery place a call, would ya? I have to check on the ad revenue from my latest video."

Nero sighed and did as he was told.

Later, as they were eating their cheesy dinner, Dante asked him, "So how's it going with that song?"

Nero glanced balefully again at Dante's guitar. "Isn't exactly easy to write one when I don't have the right instrument."

Dante was practically attached at the hip to that thing, most days. Vergil, for his part, liked playing frenetic violin compositions and listening to mournful piano sonatas. Meanwhile, Nero had been listening to EDM and experimenting with synthesizers for almost three years now. It wasn't a surprise that music was just another thing the three of them argued about.

"Sorry, kid, but I already told you," Dante said breezily. "No means no. I don't let anybody borrow my guitar. Besides, you kinda suck at playing it."

"Thanks," Nero said flatly. "Real encouraging."

"Hey, I’m just being honest. That doesn't mean you suck at everything. Your little dance music recordings get a lot of attention, don't they? Why don't you make her one of those?"

"It's _Kyrie_. I want to write her something that's more… her. Something she'd really like to listen to."

He really had tried his best to practice with Dante's guitar when he got the chance. But he could never click with it. Unlike the feeling of synchronization and focus that always came with his use of mixing software or synths, strumming a guitar only seemed to leave him with a sense of frustration. 

"From what I hear," Dante said, interrupting his thoughts, "she actually likes your stuff that's on SoundLoud."

"SoundCloud," Nero corrected. 

"Yeah, whatever." 

"And I know she does, but…" Nero hesitated. "What if– I just don't wanna mess it up."

Dante smirked. "Look at you and your troubles in love. It's adorable how much you care."

"Hey, if you're just gonna make fun of me–!"

Dante laughed. "You're overthinking it, kid. Stick to what you're good at and she'll be happy with it. End of story."

Nero sat back on the couch, thinking it over. He was sure that if he started mixing a track for Kyrie instead of trying to make a guitar work for him, he'd come up with a song for her easily. Something from the heart. He just hadn't let himself consider the idea– but maybe Dante was right. 

"All right," he said finally. "I'll try it. I guess even you give good advice once in a while, old man."

"Hey, watch it. I could always call your dad and tell him to come get you."

He was right. Nero shut his mouth. Well– he almost did, but something was still bugging him. "Dante," he said. "Do… you know anything about the sword in our house?"

Dante was already up and heading in the direction of the kitchen, but when he heard Nero, he paused. A brief expression of surprise appeared on his face before it was quickly replaced by a look of neutrality. "You'll have to ask Vergil about that one."

"I have, but he won't tell me anything."

"That so?" Dante turned away. "Guess I can't tell you either, then."

"Dante–"

"Nope. Hey, make yourself useful and help me clean up."

"You know, there are still plates from weeks ago sitting out here," Nero griped. It was as he'd thought. If he wanted to know the truth, he was going to have to hear it from Vergil himself. 

* * *

Halfway through fifth period at school the next day, Nero got called to the front office.

Damn it. Nero hoped they hadn't found out that he was the one who spray-painted an image of a clown on the vice principal’s parking space. He was on high alert as he made his way there, thinking of excuses he could make. But just outside of the office, he was greeted by an unexpected sight. 

At first Nero thought he was just confusing him for somebody else. But no– that was unmistakably Vergil, standing off to the side and frowning deeply, as if he could smell the scent of school cafeteria food. 

“Dad?!" Nero stopped in front of him and gazed up in disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here?” 

Vergil folded his arms. "I'm checking you out of school for the day." 

“What?” Nero was aghast. He glared at his father. "If this is some kind of punishment–" 

"It's not that," Vergil interrupted, surprising him. "Come with me." He hesitated. "Please."

 _Please?_ Now this was weird. Nero wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was beginning to think that he wasn’t going to be getting his ass kicked for not coming home, for whatever reason. "Uh,” he said. “Okay."

* * *

In the car, Vergil still didn’t elaborate on anything. 

Nero sat tensely in the passenger-side seat. The silence between them stretched onward until it started to make him downright uncomfortable. 

Finally, he blurted out, “Sorry. About yesterday.”

Vergil didn’t reply for a moment. Then he said, an admonishing note to his voice, “I was worried when you didn’t pick up my calls. You should have contacted me immediately. Do you know how it felt to get the news of your safety from Dante?”

Nero rubbed the back of his neck. “Not great, I bet.”

“Correct.” Vergil sighed. “Nero. Yesterday– well, for some time now, you've been telling me that you feel as if I’m not communicative. At first I dismissed your grievances, but I… suppose that they might require further evaluation.” He paused. “So. I promise to you that I will… re-evaluate.” 

Nero let himself process Vergil’s words. He had never heard his dad apologize and knew that he probably never would. But that was probably the closest he’d ever get. He felt the bizarre urge to smile and hid it by turning away and staring out of the window. 

"So… where are we going?" Nero said, after another minute. 

"I didn't have a destination in mind."

Nero swiveled around to glance at his dad. "Um, what?"

"We can go wherever you like," Vergil said. "Pick somewhere."

Nero couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Anywhere?"

"Yes."

“...Wow. Okay.” Nero took a moment to think. He returned to gazing out of the window. Since his dad was apparently in a forgiving mood, he could probably convince him to pay for a meal at a restaurant. But Nero wasn’t really in the mood for take-out food.

As he was musing, he suddenly caught sight of a sign on the highway ahead. Nero’s eyes widened in recognition as he read the words on it– _NEXT EXIT: MUSEUM._

Nero knew exactly where the sign was referring to. Vergil used to bring him there all the time, when Nero was much younger. It was there that Nero had learned for the first time about how circuits worked, about astronomy and the planets in the solar system. He’d loved the interactive music exhibit that Vergil showed him, especially– he remembered spending hours pressing buttons in front of the little screen, and laughing as he listened to the sounds that resulted.

Looking at the sign speedily approaching as they sped down the road, Nero felt a powerful nostalgia– a strange urge to be there again. 

“The children’s museum,” Nero found himself saying. “Let’s go there.” 

"That place?” Vergil looked dumbfounded. “Didn't you hear me say _anywhere?_ "

Nero folded his arms. "It's where I want to go."

Vergil still looked confused, but then he nodded. “Very well, then,” he said, and took the exit. 

* * *

There was almost no one in the museum in the middle of the day. A few employees had been giving Nero and Vergil strange looks ever since they entered, though. Nero was beginning to feel a little awkward about what had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. 

Vergil seemed like he was in a contemplative mood. He kept glancing around at all the colorful installations that resembled playground equipment more than they did exhibits. "This reminds me of when you were young," he said, sounding a little wistful. 

“Yeah, good times,” Nero said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You were certainly easier to manage then.”

“Ha ha.” 

The place wasn’t large, so despite the slow pace they took as they circled its perimeter, it wasn’t long before they came upon the “music room”, as Nero remembered he’d called it before. 

Nero smiled as he walked up to the interactive exhibit. Colorful signs informed him of the correct way to work the buttons. A small, digital touchscreen displayed some bouncing music notes. 

“Heh,” Nero said. “You know, I remember this being more impressive.” 

Vergil took a seat on a bench near the back of the room. “Memory has a way of distorting our perceptions.” 

Nero pressed one of the large, colorful buttons that corresponded to a note on the major scale. The sound rung out clearly in the room that had clearly been designed with acoustics in mind. 

Nero smiled, and then looked at Vergil. “This is where I first realized that music is something that I could make. You showed it to me. But I know you’re not a fan of EDM.” 

"True, I don’t particularly enjoy music that sounds as if it’s designed specifically to set my ears aflame,” Vergil said, wrinkling his nose. “But… since it interests you so much, I suppose that it isn't the worst thing you could be putting your time towards."

Nero grinned and turned back to the exhibit. He played with it for a few minutes longer until the appeal wore off, and then he went to go join his father on the bench. 

“Nero," Vergil said, after they’d sat there for a moment in silence. "There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

“What is it?” Nero said warily.

"As you know, you were born when I was very young–"

Not this again. "Yes, I do know, so we don't have to talk about it."

"And although I of course do not regret any of the circumstances which brought your existence into the world,” Vergil continued, “I simply wish that you should take caution not to repeat my mistakes."

Nero covered his face with his hands. "Oh my God."

"Raising a child is a tremendous responsibility–"

"I _know_! I know. Trust me. I know." 

"Good." Vergil paused. “I only say this because I want you to understand why I can be… strict with you.” 

Nero sighed. “You said… that you were going to communicate more. Or whatever.”

“I said I was going to re-evaluate,” Vergil murmured.

“Well, re-evaluate _now._ You can start by telling me why you feel like you have to hide so much crap about your past.”

"I thought it would be best,” Vergil said. He paused. “I think you’re aware that the childhood Dante and I had was… turbulent.” 

Nero had guessed as much. Vergil and his uncle never went into specifics when they discussed their pasts, but from all that had been left unsaid, it was obvious that things hadn’t been easy. 

“The two of us were separated for some time,” Vergil continued, “and during that period, we did… regrettable things just to support ourselves. During that time, I treasured Yamato, keeping it always with me. It was passed down to me from my father.”

“From Sparda? Seriously?”

“Indeed. Dante possesses an equivalent heirloom, though he keeps it hidden away.”

“Dante has a sword like that?”

“Well, Yamato is superior, of course, and far more elegant.” Vergil raised his head haughtily. “But yes. I’ve displayed my sword in our home as a reminder to myself… a reminder of all that I’ve endured to build our family. Seeing it often fills me with renewed strength to move forward.” 

“I… had no idea,” Nero said.

Vergil smiled slightly before glancing away. “I admit, Nero, that I want you to see me as a source of strength. As such, talking to you about a time in my life where I was so weak… is difficult.” 

“I need to know that about you, though,” Nero argued. “It’s part of our family’s history, isn’t it?”

“I suppose you’re right.” 

"What about that amulet?” Nero asked.

Vergil looked surprised. He reached under the neck of his dress shirt and pulled out the chain he always wore close to his skin. “You mean… this?”

“Yeah. You and Dante both have one, don’t you?" Nero said. “It’s from Grandma, right?” 

Vergil nodded. “As Yamato is a memento of our father, Sparda, this amulet is from Eva. Someday both will belong to you."

Nero blinked. “They will?”

Vergil raised an eyebrow. “What else would I do with them?”

“Right.” 

Vergil paused, looking as if he was deciding whether or not to say more. Finally, he said, “There’s something else. The fact that you’ve formed such a close friendship with that girl and her brother is quite ironic.”

Nero frowned. “Ironic, huh? Why?”

Vergil stroked his chin. “Your grandfather had a somewhat… complex… relationship with the church to which Kyrie and Credo belong.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was a politician, a powerful man. He inspired love and loathing in others equally. Let us leave it at that for now.” Vergil glanced at him. “If there is anything else you would like to know, I will try my best to explain.” 

Nero opened his mouth. 

"Later, that is,” Vergil said, cutting in before he could speak. “I believe that I have said enough for one day."

Nero supposed it was better not to push his luck. “Fine.”

Vergil stood up. “We’ve been sitting long enough. We may as well continue perusing the exhibits while we’re here.” 

He said that, but eventually, the two of them just ended up at the gift shop near the entrance. 

As they looked through all the goods for sale, Vergil stopped to pick up a thin book titled _Music Theory for Kids._ He glanced at Nero. “You’ve been having trouble with a musical project recently, haven’t you?” 

Nero almost dropped the toy keychain he was fiddling with. “How’d you know?”

“I’m your father,” Vergil said cryptically. “There’s little I don’t know.” 

“...Okay.” Nero decided to let that one go. “Anyway, yeah, I’m writing a song. For Kyrie.” He narrowed his eyes. “That bother you?”

Vergil crossed his arms. “I suppose I don’t mind you associating with that family. But under no circumstances are you to visit that church.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that. All that religious stuff puts me to sleep.” 

“That aside, why is it that you’ve been having problems?” 

Nero felt his face heat up. This was so embarrassing to talk about with his dad. “Well, I’m no good at lyrics. I want… to put what I feel into words, but I just can’t.” 

Vergil tilted his head, considering him.

“What?” Nero said defensively.

“Nothing. I was only thinking about how much you’ve grown.”

Nero rubbed the back of his neck. “Whatever…”

“Anyway,” Vergil added, “I believe it won’t be difficult to find the solution to your problem.”

“Huh?”

“When we go home,” his father announced, “we’ll look through my poetry collection.”

“Your… poetry collection,” Nero repeated.

“Don’t underestimate the power of the written word, Nero. The works in my collection have been preserved for so long precisely because they possess the extraordinary ability to express emotions that are often only felt at a subconscious level. I have no doubt that you will find inspiration."

He sounded so confident that Nero started to feel cautiously optimistic. “Well… couldn’t hurt to try, I guess.” 

"Exactly.” Vergil looked satisfied. “Now, shall we leave this place? We can pick something up for dinner on the way back."

"About that,” Nero said. “Can we make something at home instead?"

Surprise flitted across Vergil's face. They hadn't made dinner together in months. “Of course.” He looked thoughtful. “Perhaps I’ll even invite Dante.” 

“You’re in a good mood today, huh?” 

“Hm,” was the only answer he got. “Be prepared to spend some significant time reading tonight, Nero. It’s time you finish writing this song, and with style. A child of mine shouldn’t produce anything that’s less than perfect.” 

A lot of reading, huh? For some reason, Nero didn’t dread the prospect as much as he usually would. In fact, he was kind of looking forward to it.

First Dante had helped him out, and now even his dad was willing to lend him a hand with his song. Nero felt newly confident, like he could finally do this. He imagined the look that'd be on Kyrie's face when he could finally play her the product of his work, and smiled. “Whatever you say, Dad.” 


End file.
